


Lycanthropy

by brazenlyunabashedlyshamelessly



Series: House of Wolves [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-04
Updated: 2016-11-04
Packaged: 2018-08-29 00:36:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8469037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brazenlyunabashedlyshamelessly/pseuds/brazenlyunabashedlyshamelessly
Summary: Bucky tries to have A Talk with Steve, Steve feels gross, Tony tries to help.





	

_ I should’a known. _

He’s too perfect. No one looks like that without there being  _ something  _ wrong with them. Still, Steve holds out hope. Staring at Bucky, he waits for the other guy to deliver the punchline.

It doesn’t come.

“You know you that it’s August, right? I mean, we’ve still got a while to go ‘til Halloween.”

“That isn’t funny.”

_ No shit. _

Steve feels his shoulders slump as Bucky continues to stare at him pleadingly. This is his first  _ real _ interaction with Bucky, the first conversation they’ve had, and it’s a complete fuck up. First with the awkwardness; then with Steve trying to tell Bucky is was totally okay if he wasn’t interested, even though it chapped his ass to say so; and now, with Bucky being completely delusional.

_ This sucks. _

“Look, Steve, I know you don't believe me--”

_ That's ‘cause what you just said is pretty un-friggin’-believable.  _

“--and that you think I'm nuts--”

_ Understatement.  _

“--but you've gotta hear me out.” Bucky’s expression grows resolute. “I'll prove it to you.”

_ Alright, now we're done. The benefit of the doubt has officially expired.  _

“Woah, okay, big fella.” Steve gets to his feet, hoping that his smile is kind. And the truth is, he does feel bad for Bucky. Guy’s clearly got issues. But Steve is not a doctor, and to even allow Bucky to try to explain would likely just make things worse. 

“I'm glad you came to tell me this,” Steve continues earnestly. And he’s not lying. At least this will nip his ridiculous infatuation with Bucky in the bud, before it gets worse. “And I'll be sure to keep an eye out for any excessive hair growth, or the urge to pee against a fire hydrant.”

“Steve, this is serious.”

“Oh, I don't doubt that for a second. Hey, I know you said that you and Tony aren't really friends, but maybe you should talk to him about findin’ you a doctor. Some non-judgemental type.”

He knows it's probably futile, but Steve starts edging closer to Bucky, hoping to herd him towards the apartment door. Luckily, while Bucky may be crazy, he's not the kind of person to ignore Steve’s discomfort. 

Clearly reluctant, he allows Steve to open the door for him to step out. 

“Okay, fine, I'm goin’,” Bucky huffs, clearly upset. “But you gotta promise me one thing.”

“Absolutely.”  _ Not.  _

“If you start feelin’ weird; like, if you can't sleep, or you get really bad headaches, call me. I can leave you my number--”

“Yeah, I don't think that'll be necessary,” Steve cuts in, starting to get annoyed now. 

“ _ Please _ . Just… please, Steve. I know you don't believe me, and I get it, I really do. And you can think that I'm batshit fucking insane if you need to, that's fine. But if you get sick for no reason--”

“I'll call you.”

A heavy silence hangs between them, and Bucky gets this really wistful look on his face. For a moment, Steve actually feels bad. 

Until he remembers that Bucky thinks he's a goddamn  _ werewolf.  _

There are some things you just can’t overlook. 

This is one of them. 

“So, uh, thanks for the heads up, Buck,” Steve says as he starts to edge the door closed. “Really appreciate it.”

And with that, he gently shuts the door in Bucky's face. It's only once he’s slid the deadbolt home that he lets out a relieved breath.

_ I really gotta talk to that jackass Pierce, tell him the security in this place  _ sucks.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“He said  _ what?” _

“Jesus, Sam, would you keep your voice down?” Steve hisses, glancing around the office frantically. Luckily, no one is paying them any attention, the different little clusters absorbed in their own recounting of the weekend. He looks back at Sam to see that his best friend is still too caught up in what Steve had just told him to be too concerned about anyone overhearing them. 

“So he actually said  _ werewolf.  _ And he came over to warn you that he might've infected you,” Sam says, sounding bewildered. 

“That's what he told me.” 

“Y’know, if he weren't so fuckin’ nuts, I'd say that's actually kinda sweet.”

“Sure, after he  _ infected _ me in the first place,” Steve grouses. 

For a moment, Sam just looks at him. A knowing smile slowly crosses his face, lighting his entire expression. Steve hates that look.

It means that Sam’s seen more than Steve wants him to.

And, sure enough…

“You still like him.”

“What? That’s stupid. I do not--”

“Oh, my God, you’re really still into him.”

Steve slumps down into his seat with a pained groan. Opposite him, Sam is still grinning. Goddamn it, that asshole is way too intuitive for Steve’s peace of mind.

“I dunno what you’re freakin’ out about,” Sam tells him, amusement clear in his voice. “You’ve had a thing for Barnes for over a year. It’s not just gonna go away ‘cause he’s a little weird.”

“A  _ little weird _ ? Sam, the guy thinks he infected me with werewolfism--”

“Lycanthropy.”

“Excuse me?”

“It’s called lycanthropy, not werewolfism. Seriously, Rogers, don’t you read?”

“Jeez, sorry, Doctor Dumbledork,” Steve huffs, deliberately baiting his best friend.

Sam gets this really pained look on his face, and Steve can’t help but grin.  _ This _ is how he likes to spend his Monday mornings, talking and laughing with Sam. Not trying to come up with a reasonable explanation for the crazy thing the guy he’s been pining for had said.

“You did the right thing, man,” Sam murmurs.

“I know. It’s just…damn it, I really like him.”

“Look, man,  _ like  _ is somethin’ you can get over. Gettin’ murdered by a crazy person is a little harder to recover from. I mean, I’m pretty sure those guys Dahmer killed had a torch burning for him too.”

A laugh escapes Steve at that, and the heavy feeling that had been sitting on his chest slowly dissipates. Sam’s right about one thing--not about comparing Bucky to Jeffrey Dahmer, gross--Steve will get over it. 

It may take a little time, but soon, this whole mess will just be one of those horror stories he tells his friends about when they recount their respective dating escapades.

They move on after that, with Sam wondering if Peggy Carter would agree to go out with him. And even while Steve encourages his friend to go for it, there’s a niggling sensation at the back of his mind.

_ What if I don’t wanna get over Bucky? _

_ You’re a fuckin’ moron. _

_\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

The first three weeks of Operation Avoid Bucky go well. Since he’d been pining over Bucky for more than a year now, Steve had managed to remember little details about when the guy likes to get his coffee, the fact that he’d rather take the stairs than the elevator, and that he’s the one who usually steals Phil Coulson’s lunch.

So, that part’s easy. And with the new assignment the PR branch of Stark Industries had been given--make Tony Stark seem more relatable to the man on the street--Steve’s been busy enough that he doesn't think about Bucky too much. 

Well, during working hours, at least. Those dark, quiet hours when he's alone in his bed with nothing else to occupy him, thoughts of Bucky invade his mind. 

_ If you had a lick of goddamn sense, you'd be over this by now _ , Steve chastises himself one night. 

It would be easier if he could just sleep. Jesus, it feels like weeks since the last time he had some quality shut eye. 

_ Okay, let's try some deep breathing. Empty your mind. That's what Sharon says always helps her.  _

Restless and irritated, staying still and  _ not thinking _ proves impossible. By the time he gives up, Steve's more agitated that he was when he'd started. 

Giving up, Steve decides to try to get some work done. If he can't sleep, the least he can do is be productive. Plus, it'd be great to get away from his goddamn sheets. 

_ Maybe that's why I can't sleep _ , Steve thinks grumpily.  _ Damn things feel like sandpaper.  _

A few minutes later, and Steve's sitting cross legged at his coffee table. There's a cup of chamomile tea to his left, and his computer’s open before him. Scowling at the bright screen, Steve mentally curses Bucky. If he hadn't been such a fucking dumbass, Steve wouldn't be lying awake at night thinking about him. 

Or maybe he would be, but they'd be happier thoughts. 

_ Jerk.  _

While Steve waits for his computer to do some updates--it does nothing to improve his mood--his gaze strays to his sketch pad. He doesn't need to open it to know what images it contains. For the last few days, all he'd been able to draw was friggin’ Bucky. 

_ I think I hate him.  _

But whatever. At least he has his work to keep his mind occupied. 

If he's really lucky, it'll be so mind numbingly boring that he'll fall asleep where he sits. 

Steve’s forgotten one really important thing, though. 

He's never been that lucky. 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next week is harder. Steve doesn't even bother going to bed at night, just settles on the floor to stare blankly at his computer screen. Even though he tries not to, Steve can't help but remember Bucky warning him about possibly experiencing headaches and insomnia. 

_ Asshole forgot to mention the fever _ , Steve thinks fuzzily. 

God, he's so tired, but it's like his body’s just lost the ability to shut down. 

For a moment, he's tempted to contact Bucky to ask him what the hell’s going on. 

_ No.  _

It’s just a freakish coincidence. Bucky didn't infect him with  _ lycanthropy _ ; creep probably just had mono or something that he'd passed on. 

Still, even though Steve's utterly determined  _ not  _ to contact Bucky, he does check his phone. On it are about two dozen text messages from the other man, each one urging him not to be stubborn and to ask for help if he needed it. 

Steve had only replied to the first one. 

He has to admit, though, Bucky’s one determined son of a bitch. If someone had responded to one of his texts with nothing but a shit emoji, he'd have written them off. 

Tired as he is at this point, Steve has to concede--if only to himself--that he kind of likes how Bucky hasn't given up. 

_ Like a dog with a bone,  _ some slightly hysterical part of his brain supplies. 

Once again, sleep proves elusive.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“You look like shit. Do you usually look like shit? I can’t have been the one to hire you, I like my employees attractive.”

_ I must be hallucinating,  _ Steve thinks, blinking up at the man who’s come to sit casually on the edge of his desk. With his dark hair and carefully trimmed goatee, this is the last place Steve would’ve expected to see Tony Stark. 

And yet, here he is.

But he  _ really  _ can’t be. Convinced that exhaustion has him seeing things, Steve reaches out to… poke Stark, half expecting his hand to go through the other man.

Tony Stark is surprisingly solid. 

“What are you doing?” he asks, giving Steve a bewildered look. “Are you high?”

“No.” Steve lets out a little huff, allowing his hand to drop down onto his lap. He’s still not entirely convinced this is real, so he doesn’t bother trying to filter his words. “Only an idiot would come to work stoned.”

“I did once,” Stark says in an offhand manner. 

“Well, yeah,” Steve mutters. “You're Tony Stark. You could come to work dressed as a-a-a--” He casts around, searching for something ridiculous for Stark to get away with. “--a cow, and no one would blink twice.”

“You're probably right,” Tony agrees. “Although I'd never dress as a cow. Way too agrarian for me.” He straightens up without warning before stretching indolently. “Hey, let's go for a walk.”

This dream couldn't get any more bizarre. Or maybe it isn't a dream? But why the hell would Stark come looking for Steve? He's just a low level guy in the PR department. 

_ Whatever.  _

Steve gets up and follows after Tony, who'd already started walking without waiting for a response. He apparently isn't one to wait for an audience either because, by the time Steve catches up, Tony’s already talking. 

“So, tell me, what're you guys working on down here?”

It’s a strangely  _ normal _ question, and Steve can’t be sure if that means this is really happening, or not.

He kind of hopes he is dreaming. Dreams mean sleep.

“Uh, we’re supposed to make you seem more approachable,” Steve answers finally.

“Why the hell would you do that?” Tony doesn’t wait for a reply, just shakes his head and mutters, “And why the hell would they be putting the IT department on that?”

They’ve reached the elevators now, and Tony waves him into the nearest one. 

“So, Barnes tells me you’re having trouble transitioning,” Stark says once the doors have slid shut.

“Excuse me?”

“A deaf werewolf, figures.” Tony rolls his eyes expressively. “Barnes told me. That you. Are having. Trouble. With your. Transition.” 

And that’s how Steve decides that what’s happening is absolutely real. Because not even his vivid imagination could come up with a Tony Stark this obnoxious. Disbelief quickly morphs into outrage. 

“Werewolf? Are you--I don’t--”

Steve would probably continue to splutter if the elevator doors hadn’t opened at that point. They come face to face with an exasperated looking Natasha. She aims a killing glare at Tony.

“You couldn’t wait ‘til you got here to start this?”

“What?” Tony protests. “Weren't you the one who yelled at me yesterday? I was just doing what you told me.”

“I told you not to freak him out,” Natasha growls. 

It's more than a little annoying, the way they keep talking about Steve like he isn't there. Drawing himself up indignantly, Steve’s about to ask them  _ what the hell is going on _ , when Natasha continues. 

“The transition is stressful enough as it is, and he's been going through it on his own for a  _ month _ . Bad enough what happened with Barnes--”

“Oh, my God, we're still on the werewolf thing?” Steve bursts out. “Did you people all have crazy for breakfast this morning?” Shaking his head, Steve decides that he's had enough. He's just turned on his heel when he hears a strange…  _ tearing  _ sound.

A sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, Steve glances over his shoulder… only to see…

_ Jesus Christ.  _

Natasha’s body is… changing. Her features are distorted, razor sharp teeth glinting behind lips curled back in a snarl. She seems be expanding, her shoulders simultaneously hunching in and growing broader. 

Stunned, all Steve can do is stare at the spot where Natasha was. In her place, is what appears to be… a  _ giant fucking wolf.  _

“Huh. So. B-B-Bucky wasn't lying.”

And then, with that, Steve passes out.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

With consciousness comes the slightly delirious realisation that he'd actually gotten some sleep. A dopey grin crosses Steve’s face, even though he feels far from well rested. 

_ Who needs a sleeping pill when you can get a beautiful woman to scare the shit outta you? _

Steve slowly opens his eyes. Sometime during his impromptu nap, someone had moved him over to an incredibly comfortable couch. It's softer than the bed he sleeps on in his apartment. The temptation to just close his eyes and roll over is strong, so much so that when Steve feels his eyes fluttering shut, he doesn't try to fight it. 

Until he hears yelling. 

“You did  _ what? _ ”

“He wasn't going to believe us otherwise,” Natasha says calmly. 

“So you decided to scar him for life?”

That sounds a whole lot like Bucky. In fact… Steve can swear he smells the scent of Bucky’s aftershave. Well, it can't be aftershave. He's only ever seen Bucky all stubbly and hairy, like some kind of sexy lumberjack. 

_ Maybe he's shaved.  _

Strangely enough, that's all the incentive Steve needs to sit up. 

Meanwhile, Bucky’s still yelling. 

“--don't know why I thought I could count on you to do this.”

“Take it easy, Barnes,” Tony scolds. “Nat’s done a hell of a lot more than either you or I could’ve for him.”

“Gimme a break, Stark. Anything  _ anyone  _ did would be more than what you would’ve fuckin’ bothered with.”

There’s a tense silence. 

_ Yeah, that’s my cue to get the hell outta here. _

Getting cautiously to his feet, Steve looks down at his feet, only to see that... his feet are bare. 

_ They took my goddamn shoes? _

“For fuck’s sake.”

And just like that, the shouting comes to an abrupt halt. Scowling now that his chance at a clean getaway had gone fluttering by, Steve listens as footsteps come hurrying in his direction. They were further away than he'd realised. 

Steve isn't surprised when Bucky’s the first on in the room. Expression concerned, Bucky walks straight up to him. It's only when he's an arm length away from Steve that he stops, blanching. Just as quickly as he'd come, Bucky backtracks, putting a sizeable distance between himself and Steve. 

_ Weird.  _

But then again, who's Steve to say what's normal in this new dispensation? Maybe that's how werewolves greet each other. 

Hesitant now, Bucky just stares at him. His gaze moves over Steve as though checking for injuries before coming back to his face.

“You okay?”

Two words, innocently asked with the best of intentions, have Steve seeing red.

“Am I okay? Are you seriously asking me that right now?”


End file.
